While He Sleeps
by Memoirs of a Dream
Summary: Yahiko cries in his sleep. Always. Kenshin comforts Yahiko. Always. And Kaoru watches Kenshin. Always. Oneshot, hints of Kenshin/Kaoru.


Don't own Ruroni Kenshin and I don't want to. –sigh- It's so hard to have romantic feelings for someone you created…

**While He Sleeps  
**

Yahiko cried in his sleep. Always. No one knew why; they never asked and he never gave any indication that he was even aware of it. Presumably his dreams were tragic enough to inspire tears in even such a strong boy. It worried Kaoru, though she never gave any indication of it.

Kenshin comforted Yahiko in his sleep. Always. No one knew why; they assumed that he sympathized, that his own heart cried out with grief while Yahiko moaned, that he thought of his comfort-giving as another good deed that would help him atone for his past.

Kaoru always watched Kenshin. Always. No one else even knew about it, but she knew exactly why. She loved Kenshin no matter what. That, she would never deny unless it was aloud. But there was something about watching him creep so silently, so carefully, into Yahiko's room - something about watching him cradle Yahiko in his arms, sometimes rocking back and forth, sometimes humming a soothing tune, sometimes murmuring so quietly that she couldn't make out his words - that melted her heart, that made her love him more and more every time she witnessed it.

Tonight was no exception to any of these. Kaoru lay awake on her futon, listening through the thin walls. Yahiko was beginning to weep, his thin wails rising slowly in both volume and intensity. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, listening.

There. The smallest creak of floorboards, as she had predicted, nearly inaudible despite that it came in a pause between Yahiko's sobs. She stirred, pushing back her blankets as quietly as she could manage and rising. Slowly, lightly, she drifted out of her bedroom and followed Kenshin's shadow down the hall. He heard her, he must have, but he neither turned nor gave any indication that he knew she was following. He never did. Kenshin, she thought, never acknowledged her except around others.

He slipped into Yahiko's room, his steps so light and soft that she would never have known if she hadn't listened for him, wasn't watching him. Kaoru followed. She watched him kneel at Yahiko's futon, brushing the hair from his sweaty brow and caressing his cheeks like a mother her sick child.

And then he spoke. "Yahiko, why do you cry? There is nothing to be sad over, that there is not." So soft, so sweet. Kaoru drifted to the doorway. Kenshin knew she was there. Kenshin knew everything about his surroundings, all the time. But he did not look at her. He never did. And if he had looked at her, he would not see her as she wanted to be seen. The boy gave another cry and, still sleeping, rolled over and clung to Kenshin's knee. He never stopped sobbing.

Kaoru recognized the pattern. Sure enough, Kenshin tenderly gathered him up and rocked back and forth, such a sweet melody falling from his lips that Kaoru let her eyes close, let her head rest back against the wall. She loved the sound of Kenshin's voice. She loved his hair, loved his eyes, his face, his strength, his confidence – most of all, loved his kindness. She loved the way he would sit up for hours and listen for Yahiko's cries, spend the night awake to comfort one who would never even know about it.

Yahiko's moans quieted, but Kenshin continued to sing for a long time. When at last his songs died away, Kaoru knew it was time to get back to her own room. She started to slip away.

"You are a strong boy, that you are," Kenshin murmured. "Even the strongest need help sometimes, that they do." Silence for a moment, then a sigh. Kaoru eased her bedroom door closed and returned to her futon, to pretend that she had been asleep the entire time. This routine was so precious to her, though she couldn't say why. It was the embodiment of their collective plight; they mourned in secret, and comforted each other in secret, and took comfort without knowing why.

She usually fell asleep quickly, after listening for so long to Kenshin's lullabies. Tonight, though, sleep fled her.

She heard a nearly inaudible footstep in the hall. Kenshin was going back to his room. There was no other sound, but then there rarely was.

Her door slid open, and only the tiniest brush of wood on wood made her aware of it. Silent footsteps. She closed her eyes and Kenshin settled by her. Did he do this often? His hand, so strong but so gentle, settled on her shoulder. It was a warm weight that she relished. He said nothing. She didn't open her eyes.

For a long time, companionship – unspeaking, but familiar, comfortable. Then, "We could all learn from Yahiko, that we could." He spoke as if to himself, his words were so soft and so reflective. They lingered in contented silence until Kenshin broke it again, this time with the refrain of a lullaby – sweetly, softly sung, and soon fading into the night.

"Sleep well, love."

A phrase spoken as though he'd said it many times.

And then he was gone.

Yahiko began to cry again.


End file.
